Conditioned
by PyroTheWereCat
Summary: Shiro has repressed more memories than just the arena. - Rated M for disturbing imagery and emotional intensity. Featuring trans!Pidge (age 16), 19yo!Shiro, and no romantic ships so please no shippy comments. All platonic ships are valid.


**TRIGGER WARNING. This fic contains depictions of a debilitating panic attack, flashbacks to trauma, blood, body horror, etc. Reader discretion heavily advised.**

It was an accident.

That's what anyone would say. No one wanted this to happen, especially not to Shiro. He already had so much to shoulder with being the leader of the team and everyone blamed themselves for forcing him to relive his experiences aboard the prison ship. It was an accident, yes, but a preventable one.

They had just finished a long day of training, each one of them sore and soaked with sweat, but in high spirits. Hunk even had enough energy left to cook, much to the delight of the Paladins (and the dismay of Coran). The remaining four Paladins gathered around the table, all talking and laughing. Even Lance and Keith were getting along. The energy couldn't be better among the pilots and it seemed nothing could possibly go wrong.

This scene seemed so far away now; it felt like a dream that they found hard to recall as coherence stole memories of bliss with each passing tick. For Shiro, that's all happy memories were anymore…nothing new. He struggled to remember what was happening before the attack…why was it so _difficult_ to latch onto good memories? Lance had said something stupid that was only mildly funny…then Pidge made a remark that had made it hysterical. Shiro had never seen Keith laugh so hard in his life. Hunk had come out with a tray overflowing with colorful, steaming Arusian plants, his grin just as big and as warm. Lance, Keith, and Pidge play fought over the food, arguing over who would get first dibs. Shiro watched them all with a contented smile, not a care on his mind for once. He even started to get hopeful that this could become more frequent, that the Paladins could truly be a family. Somewhere in the lighthearted squabble a glass on the table was knocked over and its contents spilled onto the floor. The younger pilots did not pay it any heed and, for a few precious seconds, neither did Shiro.

But then it happened.

Every muscle in Shiro's body tensed. Cold fear ripped from his spine into his torso, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and his left arm. His breath caught in his throat and the world around him seemed to be out of focus. He no longer saw his team before him, nor did he perceive the dining hall as such. The walls turned dark and industrial, a scent of rust and blood seeming to pulsate from them. New sweat beaded on Shiro's forehead and back, and he was painfully aware of his own odor. He wanted so badly to move, to run from this, but it felt as if his limbs were bound tightly to his sides. The sounds of his team calling to him were drowned out by the deafening

… _drip…_

… _drip…_

… _drip…_

 _Shiro pulled desperately at his restraints in an attempt to free himself but to no avail. His breath hitched, his chest unable to expand fully beneath the taut strap binding him to the table. Though it was hot enough for his hair and clothes to be soaked through with sweat, he shivered from the cold terror that gripped him. Muffled screams could be heard through the walls, their echoes reverberating in Shiro's ears. Accompanying these sounds of torture was a repetitive dripping from a nearby pipe, one every three seconds or so. Shiro focused on the sound of the dripping to keep track of the time._ I have to get out ofhere _, the pilot thought, trying to quell his impending panic,_ I have to find Matt and Commander Holt. I have to find a way off this ship. _But his thoughts were interrupted by the return of his alien captors. Two guards and that…cloaked one. There was something so wrong about its presence that Shiro could not identify. He tugged at the restraints fruitlessly, his breath so sharp it stung his throat. The cloaked one waved a hand and the guards exited the room. The alien strode to Shiro, its near floating movements as wrong as its appearance._

" _Please!" Shiro begged, his voice cracking from fear, "Please just let me and my crew go! We're of no use to you, I promise! Please don't do this!" The creature's blue grey lips curled in a sneer. It spoke in a strange language, a harsh, throaty gurgle that Shiro could not understand. It raised a hand and complicated machinery descended from the ceiling. The alien made a disgusting gagging sound; Shiro interpreted it to be laughter._

" _Please…no…" he choked out, tears beginning to blur his vision, "…don't…" The machinery clunked and whirred and a circular blade emerged from its depths. Shiro could not control his sobbing now as the blade spun at a whistling high speed and continued its descent towards his right arm. The scream that tore through the room began before the metal touched his skin, before the blood sprayed from his bicep to his face, before the pain purged the contents of his stomach, before the stress stripped the color from his hair. The only constant was the sound of the pipe…_

… _drip…_

… _drip…_

… _drip…_

"Guys! Give him some space!"

Shiro became aware of his surroundings little by little. He realized he was under the table with his hands clamped over his ears. His whole body was as tense and rigid as a metal cable, racked by hard shivers every couple of seconds. His throat felt raw, like he had been screaming for some time. He loosened the grip of his hands so he could lift his head and observe what was going on in front of him. He saw the legs of all four of the Paladins standing nearby, heard their voices. They were arguing about something but it wasn't like before…they were upset. One pair of legs walked closer and knelt down. Shiro skittered back, bumping into the leg of the table. But he quickly recognized it was Keith, only Keith.

"Hey," Keith called softly, "It's just me. Are you back with us yet?" Shiro frowned, noticing his breathing was still relatively fast. He swallowed, his mouth and throat considerably dry.

"What…Keith?" Keith offered a slight smile to comfort him.

"Yeah, I'm here. Do you know where you are?"

"I'm…I'm in the Castle of Lions."

"That's right. You're doing great, Shiro."

"What's going on in here?" Keith glanced behind him at Allura's entry, raising a hand as if to shield Shiro from her.

"I-I can't be here like this," Shiro muttered, "Allura will be upset. I'm the head; I can't be like this…" Keith turned back to him, his thick eyebrows low and close together.

"Don't worry about her right now," he said, making an effort to keep his voice as soothing as possible, "Can you tell me what happened?" Shiro's frown deepened and he closed his eyes in thought. What _had_ happened?

"I – we were about to have dinner," he began slowly, trying to focus on Keith's question instead of the now larger argument outside, "You guys were all messing around…and…and I panicked…"

"Do you know what made you panic?" Shiro racked his brain for an answer. Everything was fine. Why did he freak out? There was nothing wrong or out of place about the moment before the attack. What triggered it? He felt his ragged bronchi beginning to wheeze again as the realization set in.

"I don't know," he whimpered, "I don't know I don't know I don't know – " He trailed off into quiet sobs and pressed his face into his knees, holding his legs tightly to himself.

"Shiro…" Keith whispered sadly, reaching out to him. He hesitated before touching him, rethinking his action. He curled his fingers and retracted his hand, grimacing. He backed out from under the table and faced the others.

"What's wrong with him?" Pidge demanded, though his tone was laced with more worry than anger, "Is he gonna be okay?" Keith stared at him a moment before looking at the rest of them. Every resident of the Castle of Lions stood before him, each just as concerned as Pidge. The Alteans bore an expression of confusion as well, Coran looking about ready to fight someone, Allura's large eyes darting between Keith and the table. Keith sighed and shook his head.

"Something we did triggered him but I can't for the life of me think of what it was," he said, "I don't know how long he's gonna be like this but the best we can do is be there for him…be sensitive to how we treat him. Can you handle that, Lance?" Lance straightened his back and nodded, not retaliating or cracking a joke.

"So what do we do?" Hunk cautioned. Keith looked back at the table, Shiro's soft crying barely audible yet it struck him like daggers.

"I don't know."

It took three hours for the Paladins to coax Shiro out from under the table. They all made various, heartfelt attempts and, despite their exhaustion, they refused to leave him alone. Lance made the first gesture after Shiro had finally stopped crying. He tried making light conversation with him in an attempt to distract his thoughts. Shiro's expression remained dark and unreadable, however, and though Lance made a valiant effort, he could not keep it up forever. Hunk tried next to appeal to Shiro's hunger but the battered leader wouldn't even look at food let alone eat it. He insisted he wasn't hungry.

Keith tried again and again between Lance and Hunk's attempts to talk with him in a soothing manner about what had made him upset and how they could fix it but Shiro covered his ears once more to block out any reminders of his humiliation. Several times Keith appeared to be losing his patience but he maintained a calm exterior for his friend's sake. Allura and Coran sat anxiously nearby, completely unsure of how to handle the situation but visibly concerned for the Black Paladin's wellbeing.

It was Pidge who managed to lure him out after three long hours. While the others actively worked on solutions, Pidge sat against the wall silently, watching everything. He felt he needed to be the one to reach Shiro after all he had done for him and his family so he carefully considered and weighed his options. He saw Shiro respond negatively to Lance and Hunk's attempts at distracting him into taking care of himself. _He thinks they're treating him like a little kid_ , he observed, making a mental note. Shiro did, however, respond positively to Keith's initial approach of speaking to him slowly and concretely. He only lashed out when Keith prompted him to recall the source of his episode. Pidge set his small face in determination. He knew what to do.

After Keith's latest attempt, he sullenly stormed off to where Pidge sat and slid down the wall to sit with him.

"I don't know how we're gonna do this," he grumbled, "I just want to help him." Pidge tightened his jaw but said nothing. He stood, drawing the attention of Allura.

"Pidge?" she said curiously, "Have you thought of something?" Pidge did not respond. He instead walked directly to the side of the table and squatted down.

"Shiro, is it okay if I come in?" he asked, matching Keith's gentle tone. Shiro looked at him with mild surprise but nodded and shuffled his feet out of the way. Pidge crawled under the table and sat close to him, his intense brown eyes never leaving Shiro's face.

"I'm going to talk now," he said, "If anything I say upsets you, let me know and I'll stop." Shiro's eyes flickered over Pidge, confused but trusting. Pidge felt a pang of pride that Shiro looked at him that way in his vulnerable state but didn't let it get to his head.

"What did you want to talk about?" Shiro asked.

"You, mostly," Pidge replied, "You've been a really good friend to me and I hate to see you suffering like this."

"Hard to believe I was ever a good friend, huh? Looking at me now." Pidge wrinkled his nose in disagreement.

"You can't be strong a hundred percent of the time. It doesn't make you a bad friend or a bad person. You're only human." Shiro flinched at this last statement but Pidge decided he would press this instead of backing off. "Your arm isn't who you are. It's what you make it to be."

"Then who am I, Pidge?" Shiro questioned, anger seeping into his voice, "Maybe you can tell me because I sure as hell don't know." Pidge, though slightly hurt by Shiro's words, made no show of emotion. He instead leaned forward, forcing Shiro to maintain eye contact.

"You are the kindest, bravest, most considerate and selfless person I've ever met. And more than that you're my friend. It's because of you that I'm still here. It's because of how you've treated me that I can trust people now, you most of all. You've helped me get stronger and have more confidence in myself. You know, when we first came to Arus I couldn't run more than about a hundred meters without collapsing? Because you believed I could, I can go for a mile before getting winded. You're always honest and finding the best in people even when they can't see it. I'm going to do the same for you because that's how friends should be. You are human, and a damn good one at that."

Shiro listened to the entire speech with wide eyes. He dug his fingers into the fabric of the legs of his suit and his chin trembled. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it again, uncertain. Pidge took this opportunity to slowly, fluidly reach for Shiro's left hand. He touched it lightly, testing the waters, and Shiro responded exactly the way he had hoped. The Black Paladin firmly grasped the Green's offered hand, entwining their fingers. He took a shaking breath, his gaze falling to their joined hands.

"Pidge," he whispered hoarsely, "Pidge, I'm so sorry. I…I don't know what happened to me. I didn't mean to snap at you." Pidge smiled, rubbing his thumb along Shiro's.

"I know you didn't." He gave a small gasp as Shiro lunged forward to embrace him, pulling him close to his chest. Shiro pressed his face into Pidge's shoulder, murmuring apologies. Pidge snaked his arms around his muscular trunk, not breaking his hands' contact with it for an instant.

"Listen, Shiro," he began again softly, "It's okay for you to have weak moments. We all get them. It's part of being human and there's nothing wrong with you for being upset. Just promise me one thing, okay?"

"What's that?"

"Don't hide from us anymore. We all care about you and want to help." Shiro looked up from Pidge's shoulder to see the other three Paladins crouched near the table smiling encouragingly.

"We got your back, boss," Hunk said with a thumbs up.

"Oh yeah," Lance affirmed, "We're like four cool bros and Keith." Keith ignored that comment and simply nodded at him. Allura and Coran had approached as well but remained standing nearby.

"I'm not sure how to care for a Paladin like you, Shiro, but you can be sure I'll give it my all as well!" Coran interjected. Allura gave a small, pretty smile and leaned slightly to the right, allowing her hair to fall over her shoulder.

"We are all here for you, bravest warrior," she assured him. Shiro felt his eyes burning with tears yet again but this time in gratitude for his team, no, his _friends_. Pidge climbed out from under the table, gently pulling Shiro with him. Hunk bear hugged Shiro from behind once he was out, tearing up as well.

"I was getting worried you'd never come out, man," he said, nuzzling into his back. Shiro laughed lightly, still holding Pidge's hand, as Keith and Lance moved in to join the hug.

"And leave my guys? Never."

 _A/N: Well here I go again starting new projects while leaving the old ones sitting out. But as you can see, I've fallen completely in love with Voltron Legendary Defender and I realized that oh shit Shiro does to me what I do to everyone else with my angst fics. So of course I have to write fics about him, though I want so badly for him to be happy and get some goddamn therapy. Let him take a nap jeez._

 _Extra note: I will be writing at least two more VLD fics, both for mature readers. Keep an eye out for them!_


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